If We Live
by NightingGale25
Summary: Trinity Glade has no one left to care about. But even the years of living on the brink of starvation can't prepare her for what she finds in the newest Hunger Games arena. Will she have what it takes to survive in the Capitol's twisted game? *Some mild LA
1. Chapter 1

**Discalimer: I do not own any of the original ideas concerning the Hunger Games. All of that credit goes to Suzanne Collins. I only own my caracters and what happens to them.**

**Now that that's over, I hope you enjoy this! It's my first FanFiction so it may be kind of bad. Please Review! **

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When I wake, all I feel is the bite of the wind and the sting of the many small cuts that adorn my body. I curl up in a tighter ball under my pathetic blanket of pine needles and rotting vegetation, trying to keep the pain of hunger, exhaustion, and thirst at bay. I didn't feel like trying to live anymore; I just wanted to lie here all day and let the bitter wind steal my breath. But of course I still had to find breakfast.

I lay in my makeshift bed for as long as I can bare before I kick myself up. My bow is sitting at my feet, black and silver salvation. I swing it over my shoulder along with my quiver and stand up shakily. My jeans hung loosely around my waist and my shirt that had fit three weeks ago, now looked five sizes too large. Rubbing my hands over my sides I counted most if not all my ribs. I was glad I had only the sparrows for company, any person, even from District 12, would think I was some wild animal.

Sighing, I started in an unsteady run towards the forsaken district of 12. Today was the Reaping and I didn't want to be late.

The woods sang to me as I ran, trying hard not to collapse. I let myself stop long enough to sing out the four-note song that was our anthem in the fifth rebellion. It had been passed down from the second, a four-note song that gave a long dead generation hope. That led to the brief end of the Games. Only one hundred years later they were back. The next hundred gone. This pattern repeated until now, the 210th somewhat annual Hunger Games.

I waited to see if the few remaining Mockingjays would sing it back. I was not disappointed. Their song lit up the woods as I started to run again. It mixed and intertwined as the birds sang the sweet harmony. It almost told me that the odds would be in my favor. Almost.

Being as it was, I wasn't really a member of any district. My parents left a few years the Capitol regained control and started the Games again. I had grown up in the woods, learning how to survive form birth. We never had much. Then my parents got mulled to death while hunting, leaving me orphaned at twelve. I had been living off of the woods ever since.

So you would think that I would be excluded from the Reaping, right? Wrong. It seemed that since I didn't have a place, and therefore a purpose, I was if anything expendable. The people over the Games seemed to think that I should have more of a chance of being reaped. So every year, my name was placed into the large glass bowl five times. This year I would be in there 35 times. Not very good odds considering there are only about fifty or so eligible girls in 12.

I had made it to the edge of the district now, the bird song left far behind me. I didn't stop running until I had made it to what remained of the Justice Building. People were already gathering in the square. I made my way to the line for the sixteen year olds, nervous looking and almost as thin as me. Their eyes shifted constantly, never resting on something for more than a few seconds.

"Are you ready for this year's Games?" the scrawny boy with sandy hair in front of me asked in a quiet voice. I looked at him wearily. What did he care if I condemned to death or not?

"As much as I was in years past," the people here know about my situation, the whole being entered five times every year. But most don't even care enough to learn my name.

"Well, good luck." He walked forward to be accounted for. When the Peacekeeper asked for the next person I walked confidently up to him. He looked board and irritable.

"Name please," at least he was polite.

"Trinity Glade," I held out my hand so he could take the blood sample. He pricked my finger and rubbed it on the paper with my name. I was dismissed and walked into the crowd.

It was only when the clock rang out at two that I realized I still had by bow and sheath with me. The square had become crowed with people and the body of the bow was digging into my spine. I shoved trying to make room; it didn't really work.

"Welcome everyone to the 201th annual Hunger Games!" The man with forest green hair and pale white skin opened his arms and smiled at us. The Capitol made me sick. They made this out as a time for celebrating; it was a time for mourning. "It seems like a full house today." He laughs light-heartedly. No one else responds to his weak attempt at humor. "Well let's not waste any time now."

That was one thing they had changed. We didn't have to listen to the ever growing Treaty of Treason, or why we had the Games. It went straight to the Reaping.

"Ladies first," the green haired man said with such a high voice, it sounded like a little girl. "And the winner is…." He lets the suspense build. We all hold our breath as his manicured hand fishes around the bowl. "Trinity Glade."

I hear the whispers as my name rings in the air. This was probably the first time many of them had heard it out loud. I clenched my hands into fists and made my way up to where the man was. He smiled as I mounted the steps and started up. He shook my hand and ushered me to one side. There was one more name to be called.

"Now for the lucky boy." He took even longer in fishing out this name. We all once again held out breath as the green haired man unfolded the piece of paper and opened his mouth, "Ryder Ark."

The crowd murmured and parted for the boy. The first thing I noticed was that he was tall. This wasn't rare, but uncommon enough to have most of the roofs of the buildings only six feet tall. I was five foot eight, a giant. He was at least six feet. The second thing I noticed was his eyes. They were a deep blue, almost hidden under his black hair that rippled over his forehead. This was rare. Most of us had dark brown to mud colored eyes. Blue was an old reminder of past generations that fought for our freedom. What would they say if they knew they did nothing?

Ryder climbed the stairs, refusing to show emotion on his face. He shook the man's hand and nodded at me. I nodded back. It was the least I could do, since we were going to be trying to kill each other in a few weeks.

"Well, ladies and gentlemen, how about a big round of applause for this year's tributes?" No one clapped as the man wrapped his arms around us. No one wished us luck as we were ushered to the train station. Another thing they took out. You don't get to say good bye.

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**If you liked it don't worry; another chapter will be out soon!**

**Once again, thanks for reading!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Okay, next chapter... Hope you like this one! I think it could be better but... Well I'll just let you decide :) Thank you for reading and please review! If this one doesn't meet expectations, tell me how I can improve!**

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Cameras are trained on me and Ryder, and I can tell he's trying hard not to give them the pleasure of his hurt. I'm a bit better at this.

The train doors finally shut and we're alone with the green haired man. The train lurches forward and I feel myself swaying, nearly stumbling. Ryder turns to address the other man.

"So, now what?" His voice is surprisingly strong, almost a man's. The Capitol man rolls his eyes.

"Now you do whatever you want till we get to the Capitol. I'm Gren Harben by the way. I'll be your escort this Hunger Games." He smiles at us, "Miss Glade's car is to the left. Mr. Ark's to the right. Feel free to change and meet me back here at five for dinner." He briskly walks down the hall and into a compartment. Now it's just me and Ryder standing in an uncomfortable silence.

"I better go get ready," I say just so I can get away from the overpowering quiet. I take off down the hall to the left and find myself in a large and very roomy train car. The carpet swallows my worn boots and the bed fabrics define comfort. But I was more drawn by the mirror and the wild thing it held inside.

My cheeks were hallowed and my dead eyes sunken. My once deep auburn hair was matted with mud and bleached almost a strawberry color by the sun. My eyes were dark and lifeless. My clothing was in rags and you could see almost every bone in my body. My bow and quiver still hung loosely around me. I was a monster.

I pulled myself away from the mirror long enough to see the screen implanted in the wall. I touched it and it hummed to life. As I removed my bow and sheath, leaning it against the wall, a picture of a blue shirt flashed by and then another and another. I touched the screen again and it came up with a menu for clothes. I choose a short sleeved navy top and black boot cut jeans.

It was only after I change that I noticed the bathroom. Sighing I stripped and turned on the water. It was warm and soft. I stood there with my eyes closed, letting the sweet water run over my broken body. I think of how I'm going to win over the sponsors. First were the Opening Ceremonies, then the evaluation, and lastly the interviews. Then let the games begin.

I figured that my first appearance at the Ceremonies is totally out of my control and rests with my stylist. All I could hope for was that I would get a stylist that thought I looked better with clothes on. As for the evaluation of my skill and chances in the arena, I figured I could shoot a few arrows, maybe throw a few knives and jump around. Use some camouflage if they have it. You know, pretend it's a normal day. The interview would just have to be out balanced by my first appearance and score. I can't talk to people to save my life. Funny, how that works out, because now it does.

I finally turn off the soothing water, tug my clothes back on, and run my fingers through my wet and tangled hair. I pity the poor stylist who gets stuck with me. I glance at the small clock that sits on the bedside table. 3:30, still over an hour till dinner. First meal if you don't count the two crackers that I ate before being shoved onboard the train.

Well, I wasn't going to wait around for another hour and a half for dinner, so I slid open my compartment door and stuck my head out. No one. I inched myself past the doorframe and carefully slid it back. I tiptoed toward the compartment that we had started in. As I neared the entrance, I slowly spun, facing the way I had come to see if I was being trailed. It was an old hunting habit.

"People will think you're crazy if you keep spinning like that." The voice startled me and I instinctively reach to grab for my bow. I remember that I left it in my room just in time to make the world's worst cover-up by moving my hands to stroke my hair. Ryder Ark was sitting in one of the large plush chairs, facing me and the television screen that adorned the wall. I could tell he was trying hard not to laugh and I imagine what I must look like; hunched over with arms at the ready to draw my 'bow' at any moment. Add the fact that I look like something out of a horror story and you get a pretty good laugh.

I just stand there studying him. He looks younger up close, but then I realize it's only the boyish grin he wears and the spark of youth in his eyes combined that give him that look. He leans forward in the chair as if to study me too. Our eyes lock for a second before I drop my gaze and walk over to a table, seating myself.

"So, I take it you either can't or don't talk then? Shame, I was looking forward to making a new friend." He leans back again and I glare at him. Who was he that he could so casually joke about me?

"I can talk," I answer as I study my hands, caked with dirt and topped of with cracked nails. If there's one thing living in the middle of nowhere all your life doesn't teach you, it's how to make conversation.

Ryder simply nods and raises his eyebrows, "I see." I have switched my gaze to my feet, taking in how calloused, scarred, and pale they are. He half smiles at me.

"You look terrible, you know that?"

I shoot my gaze to him and his stupid smile. Now he was bashing my image? Or maybe this was his stab at a joke, just trying to lighten the atmosphere that I weighed down. Maybe I should try back, after all practice makes perfect, and if I want to get all buddy with sponsors, I need to practice talking in more than two or three word sentences.

"Tell me something I don't know." There. Six. That makes Ryder smile more and gesture for me to come over to the other chair. I stand reluctantly

and make my way over as slow as I can. I sit and almost jump back up as the chair sucks me in. Guess these weren't made with starved teens in mind.

"Alright, the 135th Hunger Games was won by a twelve year old girl from District 7 using nothing but her bare hands and a pointed stick," Ryder smiled again and nodded at the T.V. screen. For the first time I saw that it had gone dark, but the image of the small girl with red hair on a stage was still clear. Good for him, he was already learning the rules of the Games. A box of thin silver disks sat at his feet, full of the tapes that held past victories and defeats.

"Then maybe there's some hope for us, right?" I lean over the arm of the chair as Ryder pulls a thick and dusty book out of the box and heaved it onto his lap. He opened it to a yellowed page that had a spindled 159 penned on the top in black ink. Under it was penned the names of the twenty-four tributes for that year's Games. One was penned in glittering gold, making the others fade into the background. The Victor. If I was lucky someday my name would be spiraled over one of the pages in gold. If I could stay alive.

"I think there's more for you than there is for me." This takes me by surprise. I look at him and try to figure out what made him say that. The first time I had met him was today at the reaping. I leaned away and tried to disappeared. I pulled my legs up to my chin and closed my eyes, trying to picture myself back in the woods, the wind whispering my name.

I'm almost there when I hear myself whisper, "Why?" It takes a moment for him to respond and I'm still in the woods. I'm walking down the well-worn path that the game I hunt follows to the lake that my parents use to take me to. They would be waiting for me there, happy for once.

"I don't know. I've heard some of the people talk about you in the market. 'She's a survivor, that one.' That's what they say about you. When I was younger, I was fascinated with the thought that someone could live outside of the districts and yet still be a part of it. I would watch you and your parents come in every year at the Reaping. Then one year you just showed up alone. And it always amazed me how you never spoke and yet you were one of the most well respected people that I knew of. I didn't even know your name until you were called. And even then you were like steel. I admire you for that."

I open my eyes and I'm in the train again, comfort and style enveloping me again. I'm staring at the image of the girl on the screen and see the scared, sad look in her eyes. The crown on her head glistened. I could do this. I could win. I'm a survivor; I'm strong. Of course, if I win the boy sitting next to me, the one who admired me for being who I was, would have to die.

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**Again, please review! And thanks for reading! Another chapter out soon!**


	3. Chapter 3

We sat in silence for a while. We seemed to get along better when we didn't talk so, that's how we kept it. We had gone back to watching tapes of past Games to learn secrets.

"Oh good you're both here," Gren walked in and clapped his hands. Ryder and I both looked at him and then at each other. He raised his eyebrows and I understood exactly what he was saying. Here we go again. I was beginning to wonder if Gren was going to act as both our escort and our mentor. That would be a laugh. _Just smile as you kill them and the audience will love you _I could imagine him saying to us before the games.

"When do we meet our mentor, Gren?" Ryder had read my mind. The green haired man looked at the clock on the wall that read 4:45. He glanced worriedly at the door at the opposite end of the car.

"Actually, I don't know when-"

"I'm here." Gren was cut off by the sharp voice that cut the air. We all turned to see a tall woman with sleek black hair and piercing black eyes. She was dressed in a tight leather jacket and matching pants. At her waist hung a wicked looking six inch knife. She leaned against the wall and took us in, a look of disgust and contempt neatly hidden in her eyes.

"So this is what they give me now. An emaciated girl and a boy who looks like he's never worked a day in his life." She walked over to the table, flipped a chair around, and straddled it, "Bad enough I get saddled with district 12, now I've got to deal with you two!" She waves angrily at Ryder and me.

"You know, you could at least tell us your name before you start insulting us," Ryder stands and makes his way to the woman. She just glares and half laughs.

"Watch your mouth boy. I'm the one who will be saving your sorry ass when you're in the arena." She stands and looks Ryder in the eye. Despite being a few years older than him, the woman was only a few inches taller; and that, I think she got from the black combat boots she wore. She had a sharp tongue, an admirable trait in the correct environment. Too bad this wasn't it.

"Call me boy, one more time." Ryder's voice ad taken on an edge that I had never heard in another human's voice. It was somewhere between a snarl and a growl.

"Alright. You are nothing but a helpless, needy, pathetic, little boy." She had pushed close to him, so that she was only inches from his face. Then Ryder pushed her backwards, only causing her to stumble slightly. He lashed out with a kick that she caught and twisted, sending Ryder to the floor. The woman stood over him as he stood up. When he charged, she was ready. She side stepped him and pinned him to the wall. Quicker than I would have thought possible, the woman had flipped him so that he faced her and had her knife at his throat.

"Trust me boy, you don't want to do that. I've been to hell and back, and more importantly I survived. With any luck you'll last half as long. And a bit of advice," she spit the words at him as she threw him to the floor, "learn to control your anger. It will kill you." And then she sat down as if nothing had happened. Ryder lay where he was staring at the woman. I was still in the chair dumbfounded. Gren looked at both of us uneasily before talking.

"Trinity, Ryder, this is your mentor, Mara Gegor."

Dinner was both extravagant and awkward. The meal came in five courses, salad then soup then an appetizer then the main meal and lastly dessert. All were rich and I was careful to only nibble due to my half starvation. I didn't want to see such a pretty meal come back up. In between the courses that Avoxs served, we talked sparingly with Mara and Gren.

"So, how did you end up as mentor for our district?" I finally asked after Mara stopped yelling at a server for messing up her order. She had a really bad temper; no wonder she had won the Games. Mara shoved a forkful of chicken into her mouth and eyed me suspiciously. Was there ever going to be a day when someone trusted me?

"Well, I ask myself that same question every year," She looks at her plate as if it held the answer to my question, "I was assigned to you beautiful district because you don't have any victors. I was young and stupid and wanted my first mentoring job. So I signed up to teach the District 12 tributes until the time, if any, you have a proper victor. I'm actually from District 7." This was the most she had said without yelling all night. It also seemed to make her uncomfortable.

"And I take it you don't like District 12?" Ryder glared at her. He still hadn't forgiven her for almost slitting his throat.

"Personally I have nothing you and your district," Mara laughs and shakes her head, "I hate mentoring your tributes because I know the moment they walk in that they'll be lucky to survive the first few hours of the torture the Capitol plans. If for once they actually gave me two people who can handle themselves, I would be more than happy to teach them how to win." She glances at me, taking me in with her black eyes. "So what about you girl? Can you keep yourself alive?"

Can I keep myself alive! What, did she think I got bone thin from eating too much? Did she know that I had spent the last four years keeping myself alive? I think I could handle a few weeks. I wanted to scream all of this at her but I knew that would be a good way to get my throat slit. Mara was very handy with her knife. So, I settled for, "I know a few tricks." She nods and smiles for the first time. I notice how young and pretty she is when she's not wearing that death glare.

"I like you. Your name's Trinity right? Such a classy name. Too bad; I'm going to call you Trin, so get use to it." She shoved another forkful of food into her mouth and I nodded.

"Mara wants to go over your training and skills before we reach the Capitol," Gren pushes the food around on his plate. It was no secret that Mara scared him. And with her deadly looks and swift hand, who could blame him? I personally thought Mara was quite like a snake; beautiful from a distance, but get too close or rub her the wrong way and you get a painful, sometimes deadly, bite.

"Yes. I want to know what you're good at and what you're not. I want to know how long you can go without food and what your pain threshold is. I want to know how you think you measure up in the fight." She pushed her plate away and leaned onto the dark wood table, "Let's start with you, Ryder."

Ryder looked uneasily at the floor thinking about what to say. I could tell by the way he furrowed his brows that he was having a hard time thinking of some category. After what seemed like hours he spoke quietly. "I guess I can use a knife pretty well. And I'm not that bad with a bow, though I can't really hit a moving target. Yet." He added quickly as he saw Mara drop her head into her hands.

"Well, you're not a total loss. How about the other questions?"

"I can go without eating for a few days. I think the most I've ever gone is three or four. I can take somewhat large amounts of pain. Minor breaks and such. And personally I think I'm going to be dead in the first few days." His last statement surprised me, and by the way Mara's head shot up again, it surprised her too.

"And why do you think that?" Mara leans over as far as she can to Ryder and there is almost pity in her eyes; as if she almost didn't like the way Ryder ruled himself out.

"Because I don't know the first thing about survival. I get out there and I'm going to die from exposure." Mara seemed satisfied with his answer. She turned to me and raised her brows waiting for me to answer the same questions. I took a deep breath and started.

"I can hunt. I can kill when the occasion calls for it. I know how to find my way in the woods, track game, set snares. I'm most handy with my bow. I can throw a knife every once in a while." This made me drift off to thoughts about my dad. He was the one who had taught me everything I knew about survival. I guess you could say he was the reason I'm alive right now.

"Good," Mara's voice ripped me away from my daydream. She was about to say more but she was hushed by the blare of Panem's anthem followed by a high voice announcing that we had arrived in the Capitol.


	4. Chapter 4

**Sorry it took so long to get this out. It never turned out quite right. Still not fully satisfied but I can't think of anything to add/change. If you have any ideas I would LOVE to hear them! Thanks for reading and hope you enjoy!**

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"Ouch!" I couldn't help letting the small gasp out as the strangely dressed people poked and prodded me with dyed and tattooed fingers. One woman with shimmering gold skin and fire red hair grabbed my face with her hand and squeezed my cheeks.

"Honey, how do you expect to look good with so little meat on you?" She asked a bit melodramatically. She turned to another man who had deep blue hair and slightly lighter skin. "Orthro, I think she is in need of a full body makeover. How could anyone work with so little!" She released my face. My cheeks burned from where she squeezed.

Mara only warned us about our prep teams a few minutes before Ryder and I were delivered into their clutches. _They know what they're doing, you don't._ That was all she offered as advice as I was led away by the strange gold lady and Ryder by a woman that had burnt orange hair and deeply tanned skin. I wanted to yell and shriek at them to leave me alone ad stop surveying me like I was livestock. But I held my tongue and endured the dissatisfied stares and unwanted pokes in particularly boney areas of my body.

"I agree Iris. Grey said not to do anything to her, but I am sure that a full body makeover will be perfect for her! Then perhaps she won't be so horrible to look at!" Orthro said it with such enthusiasm that I almost wanted this makeover thing. That is until they shoved a gas mask over my face, forcing me into a deep and dreamless sleep.

I woke to the smell of disinfectant and a buzzing headache. I lay where I was trying to collect my thoughts which swam through my foggy brain. That's when my ears registered the quiet beeping to my left and the shuffle of feet. My eyes popped open and I found myself in an all white room filled with different high-tech equipment. The beeping came from a machine that had a small line dipping all over the screen. The feet were from Mara and Gren, who stood by the bedside.

"Good to see you up," Mara smiled and sat down on the bed next to me, "We came in here three other times and you were out cold." I looked out the large window. It was already getting dark. The Opening Ceremonies would be starting in a few hours. But I still needed to meet my stylist and be prepared.

"How long have I been out?" My voice was raspy as if I had been talking too much.

"Only for a few hours. As soon as you can walk we're taking you to your stylist." Gren walked over to a counter and picked up a mirror. "Have you seen yourself yet? You look beautiful." I didn't know what he could be talking about. Not much could have changed in just a few hours. But then Gren handed me the mirror and I understood what Iris and Orthro had been talking about when they said 'full body makeover.'

My face was no longer hollow and pasty. I now had rosy cheeks and bright eyes. My once dry and tangled hair was now a glossy, thick red-brown curtain that fell past my shoulders. I put the mirror down and looked at the rest of my body. My form was filled out and I could no longer count ribs. My legs and arms were toned and completely rid of hair. It was as if I was removed from my old broken body and placed in this beautiful new one. It was me, yet it wasn't.

"Pretty neat what they can do here, right?" Mara laughed. Probably at the way I was gawking over myself. I just nod.

"Can I stand?" I don't wait for an answer. I swing my legs over the side of the bed and stand up on wobbly legs. Gren catches me as I start to fall and with Mara's help he hauled me back up. They help me out of the skimpy paper like gown and into a soft shirt and loose pants. By the time we're done I have regained most of my strength. They take me down the hall and into another room that reminds me very much of the train car. Then they leave me.

I watch the sun sink lower and lower in the sky. What feels like hours pass before there is a knock at the door and a young man with dusty blond hair and tanned skin. He smiles at me and nods approvingly. He takes the seat opposite of me.

"Hello Trinity. I'm your stylist Grey. Sorry, we don't really have time for familiarities. Your makeover took longer than expected and the ceremonies are scheduled to start in only two hours. We need to discuss your costume." He looked me in the eye and I could tell that he was trying to figure me out; trying to identify my angles and whatnot. I however, was more concerned about the costume. Sometimes they were great. Others…. Well let's just say that nudity is a new style for some.

"So what do you have in mind?"

Grey smiled and nodded to himself. "How do you feel about old legends, fire, and wings?"

Half an hour later I was dressed in what looked like something you would find in a horror story. Long floor length black dress with a lace back and long sleeves that dropped down to my feet. Inside those sleeves were hidden wrist canisters filled with a liquid that on contact with the air burst into flames. The lightest touch of my ring finger and they would spit the fire into the night. My eyes had been decorated with black and deep purple eye shadow that shimmered in the light; my lips were coated in a dark maroon color. My skin had been patted with shimmering white powder. My hair was braided into two braids then looped back and pinned to my head. Attached to my back were large sleek black wings that expanded fourteen feet. They moved automatically, extending and closing as if I were a bird.

I stood by the carriage that would take Ryder and me to the city center. The ink black horses were being fitted with shoes that shot sparks when they hit the streets. I didn't see Ryder anywhere.

"You look like the Devil's wife. But in a good way." I smiled as Ryder materialized next to me. He had been groomed and polished as much as me. He was dressed in a well-fitting black suit and his hair had been arranged so that wisps fell over his eyes, giving him a strange dark look. He too had been covered in white powder, but his didn't shimmer. And he didn't have wings.

"Thanks. You don't look so bad yourself." I smile and climb into the carriage. Ryder follows. "Do you know what they plan to do with us?" He nods.

"Of course. But, I'm more interested in this legend that we're supposed to be."

"Some god and goddess pair. If I remember correctly they're over fire and death. Such happy things for such happy times." I lean against the back of the driver's seat. It would later be removed to let the platform spin below us. Ryder nods to himself and runs his hands through his dark hair, examining my face.

"Did they do something to you? You look different, and it's not just the makeup." It's my turn to nod and stay silent. When I meet Ryder's eyes, he's looking at me with a look that asks for a verbal answer.

"They did some weird sort of makeover to my whole body. I now look like one of these Capitol folks, but I guess it's somewhat of a favor. Once we get into the arena, the pounds will drop fast." He keeps staring at me, so I look at me feet. I'm not one for stare downs.

"Alright kids," Gren appears with Mara at his side, "Time to give them a show." He smiles at us and I try to return it. Mine was weak. Mara steps forward and motions us to come closer. Men have appeared to take the driver's seat away. Their loud drills covered our voices.

"Good luck out there. You two have more guts than I would have thought. I would never let them light the floor under me on fire." She laughs as my eyes widen. "What? They didn't tell you?" When neither Ryder nor I answered, she again laughed and looked from me to him.

"Well, I heard that it's safe. You won't get burned. Just go out there and show them the reincarnations of Death." She gives us each a small nod and hurries away, Gren following. Grey walks up to us, Ryder's stylist, Lana, at his heels.

"Alright you two, we're on in three minutes. Let me light this and get ready for you debut." He takes out what looks like what people here call a blowtorch and points the open flame at the carriage floor. It erupts around us in red and orange tongues. Ryder and I both jump, trying to outrun the fire. Grey laughed as I fell and scrambled back on my hands and feet.

"It's not going to hurt you Trinity. It's perfectly safe! This is the same fire that the liquid in your bracers makes. Touch it. It feels like a dog is licking you." _That_ was real reassuring. The only dogs I had ever seen were wild and vicious. I would as soon be licked by one of them as I would rip out my own heart. But I reluctantly let the fire crawl up my arms and legs. It felt soft and slightly cold. It tickled my skin as the flames climb into the air.

"Wow," I sounded like a small child awed with a falling star. I grinned over at Ryder. His expression mimicked mine. Grey and Lana smiled at us. "This is amazing!"

"Glad you think so. Ok get up, it's your turn. Remember: you're indestructible! They'll love you!" And then the horses start in a trot, sparks shooting from their hooves, and Ryder and I are alone. I hear the crowd roaring and suddenly I'm overcome with stage fright. There's a reason I didn't run to the district after my parents died. I didn't want the weight of all those people's stares bearing down on me. I didn't want their pity or their worried glances. Just how I didn't want these people's cheers or eyes, no matter how approving or disapproving they were.

I feel my knees go weak and my face start to sweat. I swallow hard and grab Ryder's hand to steady myself. He looks at our hands and then at me, a questioning look on his pale face. I swallow again and somehow manage to squeak out, "Hold me up Ryder. I think I'm going to be sick." It was no sooner than the words passed my lips that nausea overwhelms me. I close my eyes and feel myself sway.

"I'd prefer it if you didn't. I'm only renting this suit." I open my eyes and manage to smile and force a small laugh. I wanted to tell him how grateful I was to have him here. But at the moment I was trying to keep my lunch down.

"Here we go," Ryder squeezed my hand and let it go. We were now under the eyes of every citizen in Panem. And Grey was right. They loved us. The cheers had an energizing effect on me; the screams feed my strength. The platform started to turn slowly and I remembered my bracers with the liquid fire. I slowly raise my arms above my head and press the button. Flames at least fifteen feet long shoot from what seems to be my hands. I lift my head and see that Ryder and I hold the large screens that are placed every hundred feet. He is shooting his flames too. The inner columns of flame combine to form a towering wall of flame. The fire at our feet has faded to a glowing red so it looked as if we were standing on burning embers.

People scream our names and the district we represent. The platform finishes its turn and we lower our arms, the flames burning out behind us. It's all too soon over and we reach the City Center. Just as the carriage was pulling to a standstill, Ryder grasps my hand.

"Just go with it." He says through gritted teeth. I let my hand go limp and he holds our intertwined hands up above our heads. The crowd went wild, the roars deafening us. We were once again holding the large screens, though now I didn't know why. This small act of friendship, that said we were not yet enemies, seemed like almost nothing. Once we stopped, Ryder dropped my hand and we waited for the President to announce the rules and any changes. We didn't wait long. Soon the anthem is blaring and the President comes out from her balcony.

The president was an older woman, at least in her fifties, with a thin mouth and brown hair peppered with white. Her skin had yet to wrinkle, but her sky blue eyes refused to give way to age. President Atlen let the anthem finish before clearing her throat and starting.

"Good evening ladies and gentlemen! And welcome to the 210th annual Hunger Games!" Her voice rings out over the crowd. They cheer and clap and suddenly everything's ringing and I can't hear. It was too loud and too crowded. I feel myself sway and have to grab Ryder again. I really needed to get use to people. It takes me a while to realize that President Atlen had started to talk again.

"I'm glad to say that this year will be one of the most interesting years yet! But before we release the tributes to the Training Center, I need to announce some changes to the rules for only this year's Games!" Why is she yelling? And why did she sound so excited? The crowd is a mix of cheers and nervous murmurs. I can see the other tributes, faded in our firelight, glance around uneasily. I guess no one knew about this rule change but the President and the Gamemakers. "First, we are having change to the weapons allowed in the arena. All tributes will have the same weapons this year." What? Tributes were always allowed to fight the bloodbath outside the cornucopia for weapons. "This year all tributes will be set with a knife, a standard bow, and a set of twenty-four arrows. No more, no less. If you attempt to bring more, your pressure plate will detonate and you will die. The cornucopia _will_ still be there, but it will only have supplies for survival. Food, water, shelter. The next one is that due to the fact that all tributes will have weapons upon arrival in the arena, your time in the Training Center will be reduced to four days. Use it wisely. One of these will be reserved for tribute interviews and another for private sessions with the Gamemakers. That is all. Good luck and Happy Hunger Games!"

And then the carriages are moving again and we're in the training center. The news had begun to sink in as I was helped out of the carriage. I would be able to use my bow. And twenty-four arrows are more than enough to find food and take out the others. I could win. I would win. The only problem would be gaining and keeping sponsors. But I was too happy about having a bow with me from the start to let that ruin the moment. It was all I could do to not to jump up and down. Grey, Lana, and Mara run up to us; they all look ecstatic.

"That was amazing! You have them eating out of their hands!" Grey and Lana shake our hands and hug us. But I am having a hard time paying attention with the president's words drilling holes in my scull. I break away from everyone and make my way to where Mara and Gren were standing. Ryder follows.

"Did you know that they were going to change the rules?" I'm as curious as I am glad.

"Actually no, we didn't." Gren shakes his head reinforcing his words. Mara looks around nervously.

"We better get out of here. Up to the twelfth floor. Too many eyes." She starts away without waiting to see if we're following. I get a chance to look at the other tributes before I am pushed into the elevator.

One, the boy from District 1, caught my attention. He and his partner were draped in lavished diamond studded togas. The boy was about twice my size, with about three times as much muscle. His eyes directed such a burning hatred at everyone that I was surprised the room didn't burst into flames. He was one to stay clear of.

The next tributes that caught my eyes were the pair from 4. They were coated in bronze and draped in gold net like garments. They both had a mean look to them and stood as far away as possible from each other.

The third was the small girl with startling blonde hair from District 8. She looks up at me and catches my. Her eyes were what I had imaged to be a clear sky blue, but were now covered in a milky white film. It took me a moment to realize she was blind. She held my stare for a second before I dropped mine to my shoes. What kind of twisted and sick people would put a blind girl in this life and death game!

I didn't want to know. I hurried into the elevator and let myself be swallowed up by this plush, pampered world.


End file.
